


Parting Gift

by LadyDrace



Category: Jericho (US 2006), Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Gabriel, Season/Series 05, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill is almost eaten by something straight out of a horror movie, but, as it turns out, that isn't even remotely the biggest of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Bill is almost eaten by Cujo.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Natt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Natt).



> This is the Gabriel-is-Bill crossover that people have begged, screamed and bribed me for. Finally [Natt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/Natt) paid me to finish it, but oh god, it just keeps getting longer and longer, so now I'm just gonna start posting it, and we'll see how long it'll take me to finish. 
> 
> So far betaed by [Mithrel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel). Thanks dear!

“Fuck!” Bill panted, pushing his way through yet another thorny shrub. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” He could hear the footfalls of whatever it was that was chasing him. Coming closer. _Catching up_. “This is not happening. This is _not_ happening!” Only it was.

 

He'd been checking out a dead cow. Turns out it wasn't just a dead cow. It was a _shredded_ cow. And whatever had shredded it had evidently decided to hang around in hopes of catching dessert too. Bill had only caught a glimpse, but the sheer number of teeth glinting in the dusk, and the menacing growl from the huge beast, had been more than enough to send him running. He'd fired his gun once, twice, three times, before realizing that it only made the thing angrier, and most certainly didn't scare it off. So he ran. He ran until his lungs hurt and his legs burned. Dodging under trees and through bushes, hoping to slow his follower. He figured he must have hit something vital with his gun after all, because while the thing was catching up, Bill was still managing to keep ahead. For now.

 

He burst through a line of small trees, and was suddenly faced with an open field. Nowhere to hide. The beast was breathing hard only a few steps behind, and Bill was shaking from exhaustion. He wasn't the most fit guy in the world, and he knew that even though he wasn't going to stop, the beast would catch up to him soon enough. He was going to die.

 

Taking a deep breath, he drew his gun again, turned around, and fired his remaining rounds into the shadowy form loping towards him. There was a snarl and a whimper, but the thing kept coming, and as if the whole thing wasn't already scary as fuck, the four-legged creature suddenly became a two-legged one, as it rose up on its hind legs and came at Bill even faster. In a last ditch effort, Bill threw his empty gun at the monster's head, and sprinted into the stubbly field.

 

“Fuck! God, I hate my life!” he wheezed, somehow feeling just a little better from cursing out what would probably be his last breaths. His life truly did suck. He had enough problems as it was.

 

Two years prior, he'd woken up in a crater in the middle of one of Stanley's fields, just outside Jericho. He'd had absolutely no idea who he was, where he'd come from... or why he'd been naked. Stanley had been amazingly calm about the whole thing, and had even let him stay for a couple of months, waiting for him to remember something. When it became evident that it wasn't going to happen, he was sort of adopted by the Jericho Sheriff's department. He'd gotten a name, an apartment, a gun license and a part time deputy job. He even had sort of a best friend in his fellow deputy, Jimmy. But even so, the rest of the town still mostly viewed him as a weirdo. “Amnesia Guy” was apparently the favored term when they thought he couldn't hear.

 

And now he was gonna die. Eaten by a goddamn wolf-man or some shit, and he still had no idea who the fuck he was. Bill Koehler was as good a name as any, but still literally pulled out of a hat. It didn't mean anything to him one way or another. Oh well. Maybe the afterlife could provide some answers. Bill truly hoped so as he stumbled over a mole-hill and crashed face first into the field.

 

“Goddammit!” he yelped, hissing as his ankle twisted. It was almost completely dark now, but he could still clearly see the beast over his shoulder, its red eyes glinting as it came closer. He rolled over onto his back, absolutely sure his final moment had come. But some little part of him was just not ready to give up yet, so in one last ridiculous act of defiance he vigorously gave the monster the finger, and spat: “Adios motherfucker!”

 

As if on cue, there was suddenly a very loud gunshot, and the beast was hit squarely in the chest - literally mid-pounce - splattering Bill's face and hands with hot blood, throwing the creature off balance, so it landed next to Bill rather than on top of him. The beast yowled in pain and turned towards the new threat with a snarl. Bill turned his head, but couldn't make out much in the dark. Whoever had pulled the trigger, Bill was ready to kiss them for their excellent timing. He was less enthusiastic when there was a violent scuffle nearby, ending with a pained gurgle from the wolf-thing as its entire massive form keeled over... and landed directly on top of Bill. Then everything went dark.

 


	2. In which there are a lot of maybes, and Bill needs a drink.

“Hey... _hey_! Wake up!” A mustard yellow ceiling came slowly into focus as Bill blinked awake. A tanned face, lightly dusted with freckles, suddenly popped into view directly above him, making Bill squeak in a very undignified manner and scramble away. He was on a saggy bed in some kind of cabin, and the mattress springs wailed when he jerked himself up against the worm-eaten headboard.

 

“ _Jesus!_ ” he gasped. “Are you trying to gimme a freakin' heart attack?!”

 

The face frowned at him. “Uh... no. I was trying to wake you up, douchebag.”

 

“I was just chased and almost eaten by a goddamn cow-shredding Cujo, so I'd really appreciate a little tact, dammit!” Bill yelled, clutching his hammering heart.

 

The frown deepened. “Are you shittin' me?”

 

Bill felt his jaw drop. “What kind of a question is that?! I almost died, jackass!”

 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” another voice said. Bill looked around and found that the voice belonged to a goddamn giant. But at least this one wasn't wearing the same disapproving frown, so that was encouraging at least.

 

“I _am_ calm!”Bill hissed, well aware that he really, truly wasn't.

 

The giant stepped closer, and addressed the jackass. “Dean, I don't think he's... all there.”

 

Green eyes scanned across Bill's confused face, and a pout was added to the frown. “I dunno, Sammy. I'll admit, he's being kinda weird, but he could just as well be messin' with us.”

 

“Yeah, but seriously. If he was... you know... then why didn't he just smite the werewolf?”

 

“Wait, what- _werewolf?!_ ” Bill croaked.

 

The two strangers ignored him completely.

 

“What if he was just faking it again?”

 

“What would be the point, Dean? Why let himself twist his ankle _and_ pass out _and_ let us drag him here? And why is he wearing a name tag that says 'Bill'?”

 

“Who the hell knows why he does anything?!”

 

This made Bill perk up. “Wait... you two _know_ me?”

 

Finally they turned their attention to him. After a tense moment of staring, the jackass named Dean sighed. “Fine. I'll bite. Who are you?”

 

Bill's eyes flicked from one to the other. “Well... I was kinda hopin' you guys could tell me.”

 

There was another lengthy round of staring before Dean threw up his hands in surrender. “You know what, I'll go get a beer. He's all yours, Sam.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean stomped out of the room, and sent Bill a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but mostly looked awkward. He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, facing Bill.

 

“So... you're telling me you really don't know who you are?”

 

Bill shrugged. “Not a clue. Woke up in a field a couple of years ago. It felt like I'd just had a nap, but somehow, my whole life was just... gone.” He looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “I've been poked and prodded by a shitload of doctors, and apart from the black hole in my brain, I'm fit as a fiddle. I'm a fully functional adult, but for all the memories I have I might as well be a freakin' toddler.”

 

He looked up at Sam. “You guys are the first actual clue to my past that I've been able to find. So please... whatever you might know about me... tell me.” He was aware that he sounded really small and possibly pathetic. But if this turned out to be his only shot at getting his life back he wasn't too proud to beg.

 

Sam gave him another strange look. “Uhm... maybe we should check your ankle first. Make sure the swelling has gone down.”

 

Bill frowned. He would really rather have some answers right now, but then again, maybe Sam was a little unsure of how to deal with suddenly having to fill in the blanks for “Amnesia guy”. Bill could forgive him for wanting to put it off for one more minute. While Sam pulled up the hem of his pants, gently touching the bruised and throbbing skin, Bill wondered what Sam had been to him. A friend? Not a close one, surely, if his and Dean's cautious reactions were anything to go by. A passing acquaintance? No, they still seemed to know him better than that. Family of some kind? Possible, especially considering how they seemed to know him, but not necessarily like him.

 

Letting his eyes slide over Sam's sizable frame, Bill did consider for a moment that maybe they'd had a fling at some point. He'd definitely have jumped Sam given the chance, but judging from how careful Sam was not to touch more of him than absolutely necessary, Bill would guess that either it had been a one-time deal or maybe a bad break-up. If it had happened at all. He let out a quiet sigh. The past two years hadn't exactly offered a lot of opportunities in that direction, either. He was pretty damn sure he wasn't a virgin, but since he couldn't remember anything, he might just as well be.

 

He hissed when Sam poked a little too hard, and he muttered a sincere “Sorry” before pulling sock and pant leg back into place, and drawing back to a respectable distance.

 

“So, uhm...” Sam ventured. “What do you wanna know?”

 

“Everything!” Bill blurted out, before realizing that he might be coming off as slightly more manic than would be helpful. He took a deep breath, and tried again. “Right, first things first.” He looked Sam in the eye and tried his best to stay calm. “What's my name?”

 

Sam swallowed and looked away. _Uh oh_. Not promising. “Well, uhm... that depends,” Sam said awkwardly.

 

“On what?”

 

Sam's eyes slowly dragged back to meet Bill's. “Let's just say we have a few options on your identity.”

 

Bill blinked. “You lost me.”

 

Sam rubbed his face with a broad palm and sighed. “Right, uhm. I think we need to start with something else.”

 

“O...kay?”

 

“You saw the werewolf, right?” Sam asked, his eyes hopeful.

 

Bill gaped. “You mean that thing was an _actual_ movie monster? Man, I need to catch up on my horror flicks.”

 

“You... don't seem all that shocked,” Sam said cautiously.

 

Pursing his lips, Bill shrugged. “Hell, I'll believe in little green men from Mars if that'll get me my memory back.” He grinned at Sam's baffled face. “Look, man, two years ago I woke up _naked_ in a fucking _crater_. For all I know I could have been dumped by a flying saucer! Although, I never woulda guessed that memory wipes were done by _ass probing_.”

 

Weirdly, this made Sam smile earnestly. “Well, if nothing else, I think that last part is a better hint about who you are than anything else I've heard so far.”

 

“I'm still not following you,” Bill said, shaking his head sadly, but still smiling. “What does the werewolf and men from Mars have to do with anything?”

 

“Thing is...” Sam hesitated, but Bill made an impatient hand gesture, so Sam cleared his throat and started again. “See, there are more supernatural things in the world than just werewolves. Like... vampires, ghosts, demons... and...” Sam looked up suddenly and his eyes locked on to Bill's with a vaguely desperate look. “And angels,” he concluded.

 

Bill stared back. “Sure, I'll go with it. World is full of things that go bump in the night. Gotcha. Now what's that got to do with me?”

 

Sam just looked at him. And looked. And _looked_.

 

The silence drew longer, until suddenly a truly disturbing thought occurred to Bill. “Oh, fuck. Don't tell me _I'm_ a... something?”

 

Sam's eyes told Bill all he needed to know.

 

“Great,” Bill huffed. “So now what? Am I gonna start sparkling, and stalk brain-dead co-eds?”

 

Sam sputtered out a laugh. “Uh, no... I mean, not unless you want to, I guess.”

 

“So... what am I... exactly?” Bill asked, not at all sure he'd like the answer, but still needing desperately to know.

 

“ _If_ \- and this is a _big_ if,” Sam started carefully “if you are who we _think_ you are... then you're...” he trailed off again.

 

Bill swallowed. “That bad, huh?”

 

“No! No, not... well... it depends how you look at it,” Sam babbled.

 

“Then just lay it on me,” Bill said. “Just get it out there and then we can argue if it's a good or a bad thing. Please?”

 

Sam sighed and steeled his shoulders. “Okay. But if you freak out, just please keep in mind that I tried to ease you into it-”

 

“Rip off the band aid, kiddo!” Bill hissed.

 

“-you're an angel! Okay? An angel.” Sam blurted.

 

After that announcement Bill went very still. Sam flashed him an apologetic grimace that mostly looked like he'd stubbed his toe. At any other time Bill would have thought it was hilarious.

 

“Are you okay, or are you just... silently freaking out?” Sam asked quietly.

 

“When you say _angel_ ,” Bill said slowly, “are we talking some kind of slang or metaphor?”

 

“Afraid not. I mean actual angels from Heaven. Winged warriors of God Almighty,” Sam said flatly.

 

Bill squinted at him. “And... you're saying _I'm_ one of those?” He scoffed and gestured frantically to himself. “Are you _high_? Look at me, for Christ's sake! I'm short, I'm out of shape, I have a weak jaw! I snore and drool when I sleep! My sense of humor is about as crude as you can get, and I'm told on a regular basis that I have a real gift for pissing people off! Does that sound like any kind of angel to you?!”

 

To Bill's amazement, Sam smiled. “Yeah, actually it kinda does.”

 

“Okay, now I _know_ you're bullshitting me.”

 

“Then you're probably gonna flip your shit when I tell you which angel you might be.”

 

“Jesus,” Bill groaned, before suddenly pointing a stern finger at Sam. “And if you say _yes_ right now, I swear, I will kick your ass until I sprain my other ankle too!”

 

Sam smirked and shook his head. “No, as far as I know, Jesus was just a grubby human like the rest of us. But you're not far off.”

 

Bill hung his head in an exaggerated gesture of defeat. “Fine, just get it over with. What's my name?” In spite of himself, he lifted his head to glance at Sam, just sitting there smiling, the bastard.

 

Finally taking pity on him, Sam took a deep breath and let it out carrying a name, hardly any voice to it.

 

“Gabriel.”

 

“Gabriel,” Bill said stiffly. “The archangel.”

 

“That's what _I_ said,” Sam mumbled.

 

There was a deafening silence before Bill swallowed hard, the sound roaring in the quiet. “I think I need to lie down for a bit.”

 

“Need a drink?”

 

“If you make it a double I think I could love you.”

 

Sam snorted, but got up to rummage through a duffle on the other bed, while Bill closed his eyes and just breathed. A minute later there was a nudge to his elbow and he gratefully took the travel mug holding a more than generous double of whatever it was. He downed it in two gulps and promptly gagged. “Holy shit, what _is_ this?!” he wheezed, his eyes tearing up from the fire in his throat.

 

“It's cheap, that's what. Dean's coping methods haven't exactly improved since you-” Sam cut himself off and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

 

Bill swallowed down what felt like the shriveled remains of his tonsils, and after a few coughs he found his voice again. “You mind finishing that sentence?”

 

“Yeah, actually I do mind,” Sam replied, looking stubborn in an almost childish kind of way that amused Bill even in the middle of his identity crisis.

 

“Okay... why?”

 

“Because it's an ugly story, and I really don't think there's any reason to just throw it all at you in one go.”

 

“Well, maybe I still wanna know. Ever consider that? It's supposedly _my_ life!” Bill snarled, suddenly angry, two years of frustration from not knowing bubbling up inside him.

 

“Please, just trust me on this one,” Sam begged, holding out his hands in a calming gesture, which only fueled Bill's rage.

 

“Trust you?! I don't even _know_ you!” Bill yelled. “Stop trying to protect me, or whatever the hell it is you think you're doing! Despite the fact that my memory is only two years old, I am actually a grown ass man! So stop it with the goddamn pussyfooting and _tell me_!” He practically screamed the last few words, and threw the mug at Sam before he even realized it.

 

Sam ducked, even though the mug missed him by a wide margin, but it was apparently enough to shock him into retaliation.

 

“You wanna know? _Fine!_ When I first met you, I _killed_ you! But you faked your death, so a fat load of good that did! The second time we met, you trapped me in a time loop, and killed Dean - my brother and the only family I have left - hundreds and hundreds of times _supposedly_ for my own good!

 

“And it gets even better when I tell you about the _third_ time we met! You trapped both me, Dean and your _own brother_ in some surreal illusion of weird-ass TV shows, making us play stupid parts to teach us some crappy lesson, when all we wanted was your help to stop the _freakin' apocalypse_! We killed you there too, but guess what, that was _another_ one of your tricks!”

 

Sam paced back and forth, agitated like a caged lion. “And when you _finally_ got over yourself and joined our fight, you went and got yourself killed for real by having another one of your brothers _stab you through the heart_! Anything else you wanna know, 'cause I am just getting started!”

 

“Please, do carry on! Best entertainment I've had in years!” Bill cried, still angry.

 

“You _killed_ people!” Sam roared. “Hundreds, maybe even _thousands_ , just because _you_ thought they deserved it! You spent centuries pretending to be a pagan god, probably accepting blood sacrifices and who knows what else, just for your entertainment! You turned your back on your family, because you were too cowardly to pick a side!

 

“You're annoying, unstable, untrustworthy, and knowing you has so far made me a nervous wreck with _serious_ issues about Tuesdays, and it's a complete mystery to me why I was even sad when you died, and even more unfathomable why I care now!”

 

Sam was breathing hard and glaring at Bill when he finally ran out of steam. And somehow, all Bill could think to say in return was: “...Tuesdays?”

 

Gasping out a laugh that sounded more like a sob, Sam nodded. “Long story.”

 

Bill rubbed his forehead firmly, feeling a migraine coming on, and forced himself to focus. “Okay, so... filing all that shit under ' _stuff too big for my brain_ '... you're saying you were sad when I died?”

 

Sam crossed his arms over this chest and shifted awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess. God knows why...”

 

“Must be my angelic personality,” Bill joked half-heartedly. Weirdly, this made Sam grin.

 

“Dude... your death note was a porno. Starring yourself.”

 

“Did you watch it?” Bill blurted.

 

Grimacing, Sam turned away and fiddled with the duffle for no apparent reason. “Well yeah. We kinda had to. We needed your help, and you were sure as hell devious enough to leave hints all through a pay-per-view special of your pasty ass.”

 

Bill swallowed. “Well, that's just peachy. After all that insane information on what a crappy person I was, now all I can think of is how much I wanna crawl under a rock, just because you and your jackass brother have seen me naked.”

 

Sam turned back slowly to face Bill again, shaking his head with wonder. “The archangel Gabriel embarrassed? Never thought I'd see the day.”

 

“Well at this point I'm mostly just Bill, and he happens to be a little bit insecure about said pasty ass...”

 

An awkward silence fell. Bill picked at the bedspread and tried not to think too hard about all the horrific – not to mention weird – things he'd apparently done in the past. Angel or not. Sam eventually sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

“Look, it might not be so bad. Like I said, there are other options,” Sam offered gently.

 

“Yeah, I think I'm just about ready to hear those now,” Bill said, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to focus on what Sam was telling him.

 

“Right, so here's the thing. We have at least two other possibilities. First of all, you might just be a regular guy.”

 

“I'll buy that,” Bill said, still rubbing his face. “I sure as hell don't feel very... supernatural.” He finally let his hands drop back to his lap and met Sam's eyes cautiously. “So who might I be, then?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Sorry, no idea. All we know is that angels need to borrow human bodies to walk around among us, and you might just be his meatsuit. But since you - or Gabriel, really – never told us anything about his vessel, I got nothin'.”

 

“So we're back to square one. What's behind door number three?”

 

“Ah, well that's a little more complicated.”

 

Bill groaned. “Man, I can feel a motherfucker of a headache coming on.”

 

“Want another drink?” Sam offered.

 

“Nah. Better not. I don't think my throat would appreciate it. But I never made it home for dinner, and I'd kill for a Snickers.”

 

Sam sent him an odd look.

 

“What?”

 

“Tell me... does the name Loki mean anything to you?” Sam asked in a way that was clearly meant to be casual, but wasn't.

 

Bill frowned. “Hmmm. Nope. Not off the bat, no.” He squinted at Sam. “Door number three?”

 

“Might be.”

 

“Another... _something?_ ”

 

“Trickster. Pagan demigod.”

 

“Oh. Great.”

 

Sam rubbed his forehead. “Look, we might as well stop speculating. Unless you miraculously start remembering stuff, I think we're much better off waiting for someone who can get us some info.”

 

“Like who?”

 

Sam ignored him in favor of pulling out his phone. He only had to wait a few seconds before someone picked up. “Yeah, Dean? I think we might need to have Cas look at him... Yeah....” Sam cast Bill a glance before frowning at whatever Dean was saying. “Could you just call him? … Because if I call him he might not come... Yes, he does.” Bill smirked at the exaggerated eye-roll from Sam. “Just call him, please? … Thank you!”

 

“So who's Cas?” Bill asked as soon as Sam hung up.

 

“An angel,” he said shortly.

 

“Oh... so if I'm an angel... does that make him my brother?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“... not the one who killed me?”

 

Sam cringed. “No. No, that was someone else.”

 

“Who?” Bill pushed.

 

“You don't wanna know.”

 

“Oh, so we're back to that, are we?” Bill could feel himself getting worked up again, and Sam's contrite face wasn't really helping.

 

“Look, I didn't mean to go off on you like that. I shouldn't have told you anything as long as we didn't know. It was stupid and I'm sorry.”

 

The apology took Bill by surprise. He met Sam's eyes for a long moment before deflating slightly. “It's not your fault. I pushed you, and you did warn me.”

 

Silence fell, and for a few moments they simply looked at each other. Sam was no doubt comparing Bill in his mind to whoever he might or might not be. Judging from his face there was a strange mix of apprehension and hope attached to his conclusions, which Bill couldn't blame him for, considering. For his part Bill was mostly still just trying to figure out what Sam might have been to _him_. Despite the surreal amount of shit they apparently went through knowing each other, Bill found himself really hoping that he and Sam had still been friends of a sort.

 

Feeling the tension slowly rising in the room, Bill cleared his throat. “So uhm... this Cas person, when do you think he'll– _holy shit!_ ” The sudden appearance of a stiff-backed guy in a rumpled overcoat right next to the bed Bill was sitting on made him scramble up against the headboard. The shocked exclamation made coat guy turn to look at him, and the recognition was unmistakable.

 

“ _Gabriel?_ But you're...” The guy, who Bill assumed was Cas, narrowed his eyes at him. “What is this? Dean just asked me to go here,” he eventually said, turning to Sam.

 

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “We found him squashed under the Varulv we killed tonight. I'm sure you can guess why we thought it best to take him with us. But he says he doesn't remember anything, so I'm drawing a blank here. He could be Gabriel or he could be just the empty vessel. I was hoping you could check him out?”

 

Cas turned back to Bill, tilting his head at him and staring. Bill couldn't help but recoil slightly from the sheer force of the blue eyes. “Jeez, could you turn down the volume there, laser-eyes?”

 

“There's nothing of Gabriel on the surface, other than his appearance. I'm afraid I'll have to look deeper for answers.”

 

“Soul groping?” Sam asked with a grimace.

 

“ _Woah_ , wait, what's that?” Bill stammered when Cas simply nodded.

 

“Unpleasant, I'm afraid,” Cas said gravely and started rolling up his sleeve, and, oh, _hell no!_

 

“Wherever you think you're going with this, you can stop it right now, cause I know I talk big, but I'm _seriously_ not that kinky!”

 

Sam held out his hand in a calming gesture. “Okay, just hang on a minute. Cas, are you sure this is the only way?”

 

“Not the _only_ way, but certainly the most efficient.” Apparently noticing the distress on Bill's face, Cas stopped with the rolling of his sleeve, thank God. “However, there may be a few other things I can try first.”

 

Bill let out a gust of relief, because whatever  _soul-groping_ was, it definitely sounded like something on his  _ no-thank-you _ list. He did still inch away slightly when Cas sat down on the edge of the bed instead, and reached out a hand towards him. 

 

“Hey, uh... this isn't gonna hurt, is it?”

 

Cas frowned. “No. But it might help if you relax and... let me in.”

 

Bill didn't get any more time to wonder what that meant, before Cas put two fingers to his forehead, and then there was the strangest sensation Bill had ever felt in his short amnesiac memory. It was a lurching, swirling, dizzying sort of sensation, and he mentally cringed away from it until he remembered Cas' advice. Relax and let him in. Right.

 

Relaxing in your mind was a lot harder than it sounded, but the advice had been good, apparently, because once he managed it the intrusion felt much less invasive. It still felt like someone was beating his brain with a particularly acid-trippy whisk, but it wasn't painful, and he felt a lot less dizzy. He did feel like lying down as soon as Cas stopped, though. So since he was still on the bed, Bill just let himself fall back onto the creaky mattress, and closed his eyes for a minute, letting his brain slowly unscramble itself.

 

“Anything?” he heard Sam ask.

 

Cas made a quiet sort of hum. “ _Something_ , yes. Though I'm not entirely sure what. It feels like... a wall.”

 

There was silence for a long moment, and that felt ominous enough that Bill sat up to look at them both. “Why do I get the feeling that's not good?”

 

“Oh, it's probably not bad,” Sam said, though he didn't sound very convincing. “But when there's a wall... you always have to ask yourself what that wall is trying to keep in.”

 

“Or keep out,” Cas added, and Bill felt a little sick.

 

“That is _so_ not comforting,” he said, not proud of how his voice wobbled. But it had in fact been kind of a long day already.

 

Cas got up and sent Sam a grim look. “I'll need to go and ask for advice before proceeding. We should not attempt the soul touch until we know the purpose of the wall, and whether it will be safe to breach it. I'll return as soon as I can.”

 

And with that non-farewell, Cas disappeared again, without so much as a pop or even a shimmer. He was just  _gone_ , from one second to the next, only a tiny rustling sound in his wake. 

 

“Okay, that is not only creepy, but also rude,” Bill mumbled, and Sam snorted.

 

“Welcome to my life, man.”

 


	3. In which it's late... or early.

A little while later, Bill risked getting out of bed so he could answer nature's call. His ankle hurt like hell, but it carried his weight just fine, and with the help of an obliging wall, he made it to the bathroom on his own steam. Sam looked on as if he wanted to help, but couldn't decide if he should offer or not. Bill's pride silently thanked him for going with not.

 

The mirror informed him that he looked like shit. He still had dirt and dried monster-blood on his face and his uniform, and only then did he realize that his radio was missing. The monster that died on him probably squashed it, for all Bill knew. His gun was also still somewhere in that field.

 

He washed his hands and face, and dug out his phone from his inside jacket pocket, only to find that it was completely dead, and that he didn't even know what time it was. Through the curtained windows he'd seen streetlights in the dark, so it wasn't morning yet, but he should probably get home. Monsters or no monsters, Sheriff would kill him if he called in sick tomorrow. Come to think of it, Sheriff would probably kill him either way for losing both his gun _and_ his radio. Those things weren't cheap.

 

Hobbling back into the main room, he looked around to make sure the items weren't just lying around, by any chance, and Sam sent him a questioning look.

 

“You guys didn't happen to trip over a law enforcement issue gun and radio out there with the monster, did you?”

 

“No, sorry.”

 

Bill sighed, and rubbed his face, feeling very tired. “Crap. Well, it's been fun, but I really need to go home and get my beauty sleep. Think you can gimme a ride back to my car?” He hadn't even been in the cruiser, just his own car on his way home, when he was notified of the shredded cow and promised to take a look at it, since it wasn't out of his way.

 

“Uh,” Sam said, glancing out the window. “Dean has the car... it might be a while before he gets back.”

 

“ _Great_. Well, where am I?” Nothing seemed immediately familiar looking out the window, but then again, Bill hadn't exactly been in every shitty highway motel in the area. Not that there were that many.

 

“We're in, uhhh... Riverbend.”

 

Bill pursed his lips, pondering. “Hmm. Might get Sonny over at the mechanic's to gimme a ride. If he's still up. What time is it, even?”

 

Sam checked his phone. “Four AM.”

 

“Are you kidding me right now?! How long was I out?!” It couldn't have been that long. It had only been around eight PM when he met the monster. Where the hell had the time gone?

 

“About six hours. You were pretty out of it. You did look awake when we put you in the back seat of the car, but you didn't respond to anything. I wanted to drop you off at the nearest hospital, but...” Sam shrugged, and it didn't take much for Bill to put two and two together. Obviously Dean had thought Bill was this Gabriel guy, and thought it best not to let him roam free, possible head injury or not.

 

“Your brother is a douchebag, you know that?”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

Bill dropped back onto the bed with a groan. “Okay. So what now? You got any food? I'm starving.”

 

Sam had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable. “No, don't think we do. Sorry. But if you want I can go to the vending machine and find something for you?”

 

“God, yes, thank you,” Bill said sincerely, carefully hoisting his still throbbing leg back on the bed. “Something as close to actual food as possible, if you don't mind.”

 

This made Sam pause in the middle of getting up, and send him a strange look. “Nothing sweet?”

 

“Well, sure, if that's all there is.”

 

“Huh.” And that was all Sam said before he grabbed his wallet and left the room, leaving Bill to stare at the ceiling.

 

He returned soon enough, though, with something that might with a little self-delusion be called a sandwich, a packet of pork rinds and two root beers.

 

“This was the best I could do. Hope it's okay.”

 

Bill made grabby hands at it. “Close enough.” The sandwich was awful, but the bread was filling, at least. He liked root beer, so that was actually a really nice choice, and he munched slowly on the pork rinds afterwards.

 

“Why did you expect me to want something sweet?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Just still trying to find hints to who you are, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, well, you and me both,” Bill grumbled, but was saved from his gloom by the arrival of Dean, so he put the pork rinds aside and swung his legs off the bed. “Yes! Awesome. Take me home, Sasquatch!”

 

Dean stared at him, but Sam just shook his head minutely. Which was perfect, because Bill did not need to argue right now. What he needed was to go home to his shitty apartment, take a shower and get as much sleep as he could before his shift started again at nine AM.

 

Sam dropped Bill off at his car, and he spent a few forlorn minutes looking in the direction of the field where his gun was no doubt still lying around, and possibly his radio. But it was pitch black still, sunrise another hour or so away, so all he could do was leave it be for the moment. As he went to his car, he spotted the remains of the cow, and was suddenly vividly reminded of what he'd been through.

 

“Hey, uh... what did you do with the... werewolf thing?”

 

“Burned it,” Sam said shortly, and Bill nodded. At least that meant the thing was definitely dead. It sure hadn't seemed easy to kill when Bill was running from it.

 

“Good. Good. Look, I dunno how long you guys plan on sticking around, but... I'd still really like to find out who I am, so...”

 

Sam snorted. “Oh, don't worry, we're not leaving town until we find out who you are. Because if you actually are Gabriel, we're gonna need your help.”

 

“ _My_ help?! You're pulling my leg. You just said I was a maniac who killed for fun!”

 

“Yeah, but you were also a powerful archangel, and if you still have those powers tucked away in there, we need them.”

 

“Wow. Convenient,” Bill said flatly, because what the hell did it say about Sam and Dean's morals that they were willing to turn a blind eye to cold-blooded mass murder for whatever they needed his supposed great cosmic powers for?

 

“Isn't it just,” Sam said, imitating Bill's unimpressed tone, and that did make him snort. Who was he to judge? These people killed monsters, apparently. Who knew what kind of things they were forced to do for the job or whatever?

 

“Well, thanks for saving my life, anyway. Any news, you got my number,” he said, and pointed to Sam's phone, which did indeed have Bill's number in it, per Sam's request. But just before getting into his car, Bill remembered something.

 

“Oh, and, uh... if Cas is gonna come popping up, like he did back there, tell him to do it outside, and then knock on the door like a normal person. If I'm still just a puny human, I'd rather not die of a freakin' heart attack because Mr. Overcoat doesn't understand common courtesy.”

 

Sam made a choked noise, and Bill got the distinct feeling there was a joke there which he wasn't in on. “I'll... I'll tell him,” Sam managed, and Bill rolled his eyes and waved at Sam as he finally managed to drive off home.


	4. In which Bill has a nightmare, and just can't seem to catch a break.

There was someone in the room. To be honest there were a LOT of people in the room, but the one in front of him was... beautiful.

 

And not the kind of beautiful you'd say about a piece of art or a pretty woman. It was the kind of beautiful that made your soul wanna weep or something. So beautiful it actually kinda hurt to look at. And it made Bill sad. So very incredibly sad.

 

“ _Don't forget... you learned all your tricks from me... little brother.”_

 

And then there was pain. Pain so intense that Bill felt like he was going to lose his mind, and he woke up screaming, hand clawing at his chest. As soon as the black spots disappeared from his vision he scrabbled to pull up his t-shirt just to make absolutely sure that he hadn't been stabbed. But the skin there was the same smooth, disappointingly lacking in chest hair that it had been for as long as Bill could remember. All two years worth.

 

The clock told him it was six AM, which meant he'd had all of one hour of sleep. Great. He figured he might as well get up, but had to reconsider that idea when his foot hit the floor, and agony shot up his leg. He only just managed to avoid biting the dust, and dropped heavily back down on his bed, and turned on the bedside lamp. His ankle looked worse. A lot worse. Apparently hobbling around on it the day before had been a bad call, and he winced and cursed all the way to the kitchen to make an ice pack. It had to be made with green beans, but he'd take what he could get. He also finally resigned himself to facing the sheriff's wrath, and called the hospital to get himself checked out.

 

By mid-morning it had been determined that he had a hairline fracture, and he left the hospital in a bad mood, with explicit instructions to stay off his foot for two whole weeks.

 

It was so weird, though, to stand in line at the pharmacy with his prescription for some pretty heavy duty painkillers, fumbling with his crutches, and knowing at the same time that there were monsters out there. Actual monsters. And he might even _be_ one.

 

Yeah, his ankle was kinda the least of his worries.

 

He got home and slammed the door behind him, only to hear a knock on it barely a minute later. He hobbled back over to it, bringing out some of his best curses, but his anger fizzled when he opened the door to find Sam and Cas on his doorstep.

 

“Oh. Oh, hi. Come on in.”

 

Cas accepted the invitation looking just as grave as he had the night before, and Sam followed with a strangely fond smile.

 

“What's with the grin?” Bill asked, because he was in pain and frankly not in the mood for more surprises.

 

“Oh, nothing,” Sam said, only to smile even wider. Bill resigned himself to not being let in on that joke yet. Sam apparently noticed his foul mood, because he added. “It's just that Dean didn't think Cas would understand your request for knocking, and, well, obviously he was wrong.”

 

Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam in a way that was oddly adorable for someone who looked like a bean-counter who'd been mugged. “Dean has never asked me to knock, merely to stay out of the bathroom, and to respect his personal space. Both of which I have observed to the best of my ability. Do you want me to knock before entering, Sam?”

 

Sam looked like he was about to fall to pieces from how hard he was trying not to laugh. Bill was dying to find out what the joke was, because it looked hilarious.

 

“Oh, no, I'm totally fine with how you do it now.”

 

“Good. Now as for why we're here,” Cas said, turning to Bill. “I contacted some... people.”

 

“Meaning monsters,” Bill said, and Cas frowned.

 

“You would possibly view them as such, yes, seeing as they're not human, but I suppose _entities_ would be more accurate.”

 

Bill blinked at Cas, and looked around him at Sam. “Does he always talk like that?”

 

“Yeah. You'll get used to it.”

 

“Okay then,” Bill said calmly and turned his attention back to Cas. “Do carry on, friend.”

 

Cas did the same narrowing of his eyes at Bill, as if he realized he was being gently mocked, and Bill felt better than he had in days. “Very well. I was informed by an extremely reliable source that Gabriel is in fact dead.”

 

“Do I wanna know who this supposedly reliable source is?” Bill asked, because, well, he did want to know who had information that was possibly connected to him.

 

Sam looked immediately worried. “Cas-”

 

“Death.”

 

Bill took a moment to digest that.

 

“Come again?”

 

“My source is Death,” Cas repeated calmly, and Sam facepalmed behind him.

 

“Well,” Bill conceded after a moment. “That's definitely a reliable source, I'll give you that.” He also told himself sternly to never ask again, because wow. _Death_.

 

“However, I was also told that there was no way of knowing if someone resurrected Gabriel, so you could still be him for all we know.”

 

“Oh. Great. So we're back to square one?”

 

“Not quite. I asked about the wall, and was told that if it is indeed a wall, it's best not to try and break it. But it's possible to... peek over it, so to speak.”

 

“Aha. And... is _that_ gonna hurt?”

 

“Most likely not,” Cas said, but he didn't seem convinced.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “Look, it's not awful or anything. We just need to look into your dreams. We'll be with you the whole time.”

 

Bill was in the middle of sitting down, when Sam's words sank in. “Wait, my dreams?! Man, you are in for disappointment. All I ever dream about is food, and sometimes the Sports Illustrated swim suit edition.”

 

Cas looked confused again, and Sam gave him a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. “Don't ask,” he said comfortingly, before turning to Bill again. “Don't worry about that. You won't be dreaming like usual. We're gonna be taking something called dream root to put us to sleep, and keep you aware when you're out.”

 

“Oh. Like lucid dreaming?”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow, and Bill crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Hey, some of us do in fact read the articles in Playboy, you know. At least _sometimes_...”

 

“Right,” Sam nodded, but he was smirking. Asshole.

 

“Anyway, we should probably do this. You mind if I take a healthy dose of the nice painkillers first?” Bill asked, jiggling the pharmacy bag.

 

“Uh, you should probably not. Not sure how it'll work along with the dream root,” Sam explained, but he looked apologetic, at least.

 

Bill sighed and put the drugs on the bedside table. “Ugh, fine. So what do we do?”

 

“We just get comfortable and go to sleep.”

 

“Right.” Bill looked around his one-room apartment, and chewed his lip. “Uh... I'm not exactly used to company, you know. I mean, there's a couch, but... one of you might have to share the bed with me.”

 

Sam seemed remarkably unconcerned by this, and shrugged while taking off his shoes. “It's fine, we hopefully won't be sleeping too long, so Cas can take the couch, and I'll be here with you.”

 

“Truthfully, I wouldn't actually need the couch, as I can do this perfectly well while standing,” Cas pointed out. “But... Dean has informed me several times that he finds it... _''creepy''_ when I _''check out''_ ,” he explained peevishly, adding actual finger quotes around the words.

 

“Speaking of which, where _is_ Tweedledum anyway?” Bill said, grinning at Sam over his own joke, until he realized that Sam wasn't smiling. “Sorry, did I offend your brotherly pride or something?”

 

That made Sam snort, at least. “No. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but there is no bigger pain in my neck. He's checking out the town to make sure the varulv was alone. That's what he said, anyway,” Sam added with a shrug that Bill took to indicate that Sam wasn't sure that was true, but also didn't care.

 

Bill was highly amused, right up until the point where Sam turned Bill's hand over, and without so much as a _by your leave_ pricked a hole in it with the tip of dagger he apparently just happened to carry around. But then again, he killed monsters on a daily basis, so Bill probably shouldn't have been surprised.

 

“Ow! What the hell!?”

 

“Sorry,” Sam said, but didn't look sorry at all, the bastard. “I thought it was easier if you didn't see it coming.”

 

“I'm not even gonna ask,” Bill grumbled around the finger in his mouth. “But for future reference I greatly prefer advance warning, okay?”

 

“Noted.” To Sam's credit he moved a lot more slowly the next time around when he reached for Bill's hand again, and squeezed a few drops of his blood into two small vials he'd fished out of his jacket pocket. He gave them a little shake and then handed Bill one.

 

“What, nothing for Cas?”

 

“No,” Cas said. “I don't require any, as I already have the ability to enter people's dreams. But it's much easier when the subject is aware of the intrusion, and has already taken steps to open their mind, such as imbibing dream root.”

 

“Ah.” Bill took a moment to absorb this information. “Why is Sam coming, then?” For some reason it felt more invasive to have this tall maybe-possibly-some-kind-of-friend seeing the inside of his head than the person who was supposedly his brother.

 

“An extra pair of eyes,” Sam supplied. “Cas hasn't spent all that much time with... Gabriel here on Earth, so he doesn't necessarily know what to look for.”

 

Bill looked from Sam to Cas and back again. “I get the feeling this is something of a complicated family situation.”

 

“Understatement,” Cas said so dryly that Bill couldn't help but laugh, and clinked the small bottles with Sam before downing them. Of course it tasted disgusting, because fuck Bill's life.

 

“So how long does it take to wor-”

 

He didn't even remember falling back on the bed.


	5. In which there's a TV, and more questions than answers.

“This can't be right,” Sam said.

Bill blinked and looked around. This definitely wasn't his usual dreams. Everything was white. Kinda like that movie, The Matrix. There was nothing. Just whiteness. And Bill spent a few seconds being annoyed that he remembered a stupid movie but had no memory of when he'd watched it before Sam's words sank in.

“Well. What's it supposed to look like? I mean, I'm not saying my dreams are usually that interesting, but... is there a wrong way for dreams to look?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. This is wrong. There's supposed to be a room, a house or just a recognizable area. It's like a mind palace, if you know what that is? It doesn't even have to be the same for every dream, but there has to be something.”

Bill looked around, and was pretty proud of himself when he turned around to find Cas right behind him and didn't jump out of his skin. “Welcome to the party,” he said weakly, and Cas frowned. Okay, then. His maybe-brother seemed to have an irony deficiency.

“This is... surprising,” Cas said slowly, also looking around.

Not lacking in delicacy, though. Good to know. 

Just as he was about to ask more questions, Bill realized he could see something not-white. “Hey, guys, look.”

They all moved towards the thing, but they'd barely gone two steps before it was right in front of them. Creepy. 

“Well. Not what I was expecting,” Bill noted, staring the TV. Because that's what it was. And not a shitty little cube like the one he owned, which barely worked on a good day (which was why he usually hung out at Jimmy's house to watch TV). This one, though... Widescreen didn't quite cover it. It was huge, shiny and new, and was showing I Love Lucy. 

“Ooh, I love this episode,” he said with a grin, but then he realized that the others weren't amused. “What? This is something, isn't it?”

“In the simplest sense, yes, but not what we need, I'm afraid,” Cas said, still wearing that confused frown. It was kind of adorable, if that was a thing you could say about a full grown man, and Bill found that he wouldn't be sad at all if it turned out Cas really was his brother. And that was about the time he remembered what Sam had said about angels, and realized that Cas was probably wearing some poor schmuck. Aaaand now he was conflicted. Great.

“Well, at least we didn't land in my nightmare from last night,” Bill said lightly, trying to look on the bright side, but that only made Cas turn the laser-eyes on him again. 

“What did you dream?”

“Err,” Bill croaked, feeling a shiver run down his back just thinking about it. “I dunno. It was just weird and scary.”

“Please, try to remember.”

Bill crossed his arms over his chest, half sure he could almost feel a pain there still. “It wasn't exactly fun,” he murmured.

“Don't worry, this is just a dream, and we'll be right here,” Sam said, and that did help. It remained baffling to Bill how Sam could still show him kindness after everything this Gabriel guy had apparently done, but it meant a lot. So Bill sent Sam a weak smile, and steeled himself for the worst. 

He was about to try and put words to the terrifying images in his head when the TV changed from I Love Lucy to show the exact images from the dream. If you could even call them images. There was that same sense of incredible beauty, muted somewhat from seeing it rather than living it, and mostly just light so bright and sharp that it felt almost painful. But what had been words in his dream was just a high-pitched electronic whine in here, and he winced from it. Cas looked riveted, and Sam covered his ears until it ended. 

Bill felt no pain like he had in the dream. Instead the TV just went black, and that was actually kind of worse. 

“Well, that was pointless,” Bill muttered, but Cas shook his head. 

“No. It was very illuminating. I believe what you dreamed was... not a memory, but rather an echo of one.”

“Which means what?”

“You are Gabriel,” Sam said, hushed as if saying it too loud would make some monster appear, and Bill felt vaguely ill. 

“How can you possibly know that!? It was just light and static!” he protested, feeling only a little bit guilty for keeping the words he remembered to himself. 

“Not to an angel,” Cas said, laser-eyes cutting right through him, and Bill's heart sank. 

“But you're not an angel,” Bill pointed out to Sam, who only shrugged. 

“No, but I know what angels sound like. And, frankly, I'm pretty sure that you understood it too.”

Bill shifted and avoided Sam's gaze. “Not this time,” he murmured, feeling relieved when Sam let it go.

“More importantly,” Cas interjected. “This answers the question of the wall. There isn't one. I assumed there was, because I could find no memories beyond the most recent. They simply cut off, and you cannot remove all memories from a human and still have them function. But you are in fact not human.”

The reminder made Bill swallow hard. “Does... does that mean I'm walking around in some innocent dude's skin?”

“Doubtful. Most likely your original host has already ascended, rewarded for his service. As mine has. Human minds are not meant to endure the presence of an angel forever.”

“I can't decide if that's comforting or terrifying,” Bill said honestly.

Sam winced, and Bill guessed that there was a story there. But for now they had bigger problems.

“So. If all my memories have been removed... where are they?”

Cas tilted his head slightly. “The only way to know that is to find out who removed them. And although this answers the main question of your identity, it does open up a whole host of other problems.”

Bill looked between the two, frowning. “How is this a problem to you? I'm just Amnesia Guy from Jericho. Hell, I don't even know why you guys are still here.”

Sam and Cas exchanged looks. “Cas, I think we need to wake up. And call Dean.”

“Agreed.”

And before Bill could even utter a word, he woke up from one moment to the next, and immediately regretted it. “Owww. Can I take my nice drugs now?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Sam said, already sitting up and fiddling with his phone. 

Bill decided to cut himself some fucking slack, took the pills with some stale water from his bedside, and laid right back down to ignore the world for a while, at least until the pain eased up some. 

It seemed like only a few seconds later that his front door opened, and Dean waltzed in like he owned the place. 

“Please, come on in, make yourself at home,” Bill grumbled, and heaved himself up to sit. He felt a million years old, and he was abruptly and forcefully nauseous when he realized that he just might be a million years old.

“I gotta-” he managed before hobbling to the bathroom as fast as he could, and puking up what felt like everything he'd ever eaten, as well as the drugs he just took. 

“What the hell's wrong with him?” he heard Dean ask, and felt even more sick, despite his stomach being utterly empty. “If he's Gabriel, why is he still trying to mess with us?”

“I can hear you! And I still only know myself as Bill, you asswipe!” Bill shouted, and groaned into the toilet bowl at the horrid taste in his mouth. It got blessedly quiet in the main room after that, and Bill spent a few minutes brushing his teeth and wincing with every move. Apparently speed-hobbling was not approved by the ankle. 

When he exited the bathroom, Sam and Dean were perched cautiously on his ratty couch, and Cas was hovering tensely by the bathroom door. Bill was reminded suddenly that Cas was his brother. Family. Something swooped in his gut, and he sent Cas a weak smile. He got something in return which could probably be called a smile as well, if a little rusty. Bill decided that Cas needed more reason to smile. 

He took another dose of painkillers to make up for the ones swirling down the drain, and dropped down heavily in his dumpster-dive-deluxe armchair, ignoring the sound of another spring twanging to its death under his butt. 

“So. I'm the archangel Gabriel.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, and his tone was definitely more clipped than it had been. Whether that was because of the confirmation of his identity or the fact that Dean was in the room was anybody's guess, but it made Bill's heart sink. Anything was better than a life of no memories, but he wished he could have been someone less complicated. 

“And... two years ago I was killed.”

“Nope,” Dean answered, popping the 'P' annoyingly. “Not for us, anyway. It's only been three months for us.”

Bill blinked slowly, trying to piece together what that was supposed to mean. “I don't follow.”

Cas took over, and Bill felt insanely grateful for it, since Sam still looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, and Dean was staring at Bill with barely concealed disgust. Cas at least looked neutral.

“You were most likely sent back in time following your resurrection.”

“Time travel,” Bill said flatly. He felt like he was rapidly approaching a point where nothing would surprise him anymore. “Right. Sure. Why the hell not.”

“Presumably it was for your safety, since leaving you dead would have been better for your enemies, which gives us a clue to who might be behind it. It would stand to reason that it was someone who cared about you.”

“Like who?” Bill snorted. “As far as I can tell I was a grade A asshole. Who'd go out on a limb for me?”

“Family.” Sam's voice was less tense this time, but sadder, and oh boy, when Bill got his memories back he'd have to tell his douchy past self to clean up his fucking messes. 

“Okay, good point. But not you, I guess,” Bill pointed out to Cas. “So who then?”

“Any archangel is capable in theory, as well as a fair number of other powerful entities. Death has already assured me that he had nothing to do with it.”

Bill chewed his lip for a while, absorbing it all, while Sam, Dean and Cas started throwing names around, of creatures that could apparently bring people back from the dead AND send them back in time. How was this his life.

“Why do you guys even care?” he blurted. “I mean, from what Sam told me, I'm bad news! Like, lethal bad news! Great cosmic powers or not, I can't possibly be that important to you.”

Dean glared at him. “You are. Cause we need you. At this point, even bad news is good news to us. And everyone else on this planet.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because the world is ending,” Sam said sadly. “Literally. Lucifer is trying to start the apocalypse. And we need all the help we can get. Asshole or not, you did die trying to help us, so we're hoping you might step up again. With your help, we can stop him.”

Bill felt bile rise again, but swallowed it down forcefully. “Okay, that's... you know, I'm not even gonna touch that. In any case, I won't be much good to you like I am now.”

“True. Which is why we need to focus on who might have brought you back. Our best lead is probably your grace,” Cas said, and Bill frowned.

“Who?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not a who, an it. It's what powers an angel. And yours is obviously missing.”

“You make it sound like car keys. Does grace go missing a lot?”

Dean snorted, and Bill scowled at him. 

“No,” Cas said firmly. “And removing it is exceedingly difficult, which narrows our list substantially.”

Bill listened to them debate for a while, not understanding half of what they were saying, and getting increasingly annoyed that he didn't recognize any of the names they were throwing around. He was still in pain, and dead tired from the night before and the morning spent in the hospital, so eventually he heaved himself off the chair.

“You know what, I need food and sleep, so I'm just gonna leave you guys to talk amongst yourselves for a while, okay?” he said, and limped towards his kitchenette without waiting for an answer. 

He found enough things in the fridge for a decent enough sandwich, took it to bed with him, ate it in less than two minutes, and finally let himself just fall back and doze off to the sound of voices discussing his past and possible future.


	6. In which there's a choice and an apology.

He woke up to a gentle shaking of his shoulder.

 

“Hey, wake up.”

 

Bill groaned, because he was still tired and his ankle hurt like hell. But Sam's voice was insistent, and eventually Bill managed to crack open a single bleary eye.

 

“What,” he grumbled, and magnanimously ignored Sam's amused snort.

 

“Not a morning person, I see.”

 

“Morning?” Looking around, it was indeed morning, the clock reading seven am, and weak sunlight beaming through the windows of the otherwise empty apartment. Which meant he'd slept for like eighteen hours. He scrambled up, because if it really was seven in the morning, he was going to be late for work if he didn't get a move on. And ankle or no ankle, Sheriff would probably dock his pay if he didn't come in. There was always paperwork to do, after all, especially since Bill would need a new gun and radio, _ugh_.

 

Sam's hand returned to his shoulder and made him still.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“Whatever it is, can't it wait? I'm gonna be late for work, and Sheriff is gonna kick me in the nuts if I'm not there on the dot after yesterday.”

 

“To be honest, I think we need to do this now. Because if all goes according to plan, you won't need that job anyway.”

 

That made Bill freeze, and fix his eyes on Sam's earnest ones. His voice was so serious that Bill felt dread weigh down his insides.

 

“Okay, I'm listening.”

 

Sam let his hand drop, only to card it through his own hair, the long locks already looking kinda ruffled, like he'd been doing it a lot lately.

 

“Thing is... look, I'm gonna level with you here. We need you. Or... well, Gabriel. We're actually trying to save the world here. But we have kind of a disagreement about how to do this. Dean thinks you owe us, and I sort of agree, but... I still think you deserve the choice.”

 

“What choice?”

 

“Whether you wanna be Gabriel again or not.”

 

Bill felt dizzy. “What?”

 

“It's free will,” Sam said quietly. “It's what we're fighting for. Hell, Dean even calls us _Team Free Will_. Which makes him a gigantic freakin' hypocrite right now,” he added acidly.

 

“So what you're saying is, Dean thinks I should step up to the plate whether I want to or not... but you think I should be allowed to say no.”

 

Sam nodded. “I'm not gonna lie. We do need you. The whole damn world does. But forcing people to fight for something they don't want to is never a good idea, if you ask me.”

 

Bill stared at him, floored by the sheer goodness of this person he'd apparently done more than enough shit to in the past, and yet had it in him to offer Bill the same courtesy as he would anyone. It was kinda mind-blowing.

 

“I'm sorry,” Bill blurted. “For all the things I put you through. I get the feeling my old self was too much of a dick to ever think of apologizing, but... fuck, whatever I did to you, you obviously didn't deserve it, and I swear to you, I really am sorry.”

 

The small huff of laughter was the last thing Bill expected. “You're right. I don't think Gabriel ever apologized for anything. But I know he meant well. He went about it in probably the worst way possible, but he did what he thought was best. And... to be fair to your past self, I think he tried to make it up to me. I think he dulled the memories or something, because I never have nightmares of it or anything. And he _did_ stop, once I finally caught up to him and actually had a chance to ask him to.”

 

He ran his hand through his hair again and sighed. “I guess... he gave me a choice, once. You can think of this as returning the favor, if you want.”

 

Bill gave himself a moment to think things through. He did have a choice. He could just stay here, be Amnesia Guy, and wait for the world to end. But dying along with the rest of the planet when shit went down, knowing he could have done something, was not the way Bill wanted to go.

 

“Thanks, Sam. Really. But if I can help... I want to. I think I need to do this.”

 

Sam smiled at him, looking relieved but also kinda sad, which made Bill's gut sink again.

 

“Good. That's good. Now, let's hit the road. We have a goddess to find.”

 

“A what-now?”


	7. In which Hell rears its ugly head.

You apparently didn't just call goddesses. Or, at least, not this one. Bill asked if they couldn't just pray to her or something, but Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam explained, slightly more helpful, that it didn't quite work like that.

 

Kali, goddess of death and destruction, was not someone you treated lightly. Especially since Dean grudgingly admitted that she had them by the metaphorical nads. Something about blood. So, evidently, it was groveling time if they wanted her help, and since she was the last one to see Gabriel alive, present company and _the devil himself_ excluded, it felt like the best place to start.

 

But first of all, Bill had to say goodbye to his life. What little life he had, anyway. No matter how short a time he'd spent in Jericho, it was still all he knew, and he felt surprisingly wistful at the thought of just packing up and leaving. But if this whole thing was actually going to pan out like they hoped, pretty soon he wouldn't need any of it. At least that's what he was told. However, he still brought along a duffle full of clothes and the few things he didn't want to leave behind. Everything else he owned was pretty much crap he'd either found or bought cheap, because the people of Jericho were kind, but not rich.

 

Bill didn't blame them, though. They'd done what they could, in their small-town way. They'd gotten him a job, and only talked about him when they thought he couldn't hear. And he had friends. Jimmy had been invaluable on the job, and Stanley had been his most steady support. He kinda wanted to say goodbye to them, but was cryptically informed that there was no need, as he could see them again anytime he wanted later on.

 

“What kind of a name is Cas for an angel, anyway?” Bill groused from the cramped backseat, several hours into their journey to... wherever they were going. He hadn't gotten around to asking yet, too caught up in his thoughts.

 

“It's short for Castiel,” Sam informed him. “It means... what was it again?”

 

Dean didn't even look at him, but answered without hesitation. “Shield of God.”

 

This made Sam smirk, and, okay, Bill was definitely going to grill Sam later, because there was something amusing going on, and Bill wanted in on it. But that would have to wait until he recovered from the _damn heart attack_ he had when Cas popped into existence next to him in the back.

 

“I heard my name spoken. Do you need anything?”

 

“Nah,” Sam said. “Gab- uhm _Bill_ just wanted to know about your name.”

 

Cas frowned, and gave him a strange look.

 

Once Bill felt his heart was done jumping out of his chest he shrugged. “Just thought Cas was a weird name for an angel, that's all.”

 

“It's... an endearment,” Cas said slowly, and his eyes drifted to Dean.

 

“Yeah, so I'm told.” Oh, yes, Bill was definitely going to get in on this, whatever it was.

 

But before he could even start planning how he would weasel the information out of his impromptu road trip pals, Cas cleared his throat uncomfortably. Considering how it made both Sam and Dean turn their heads and cast him worried glances, Bill guessed this was out of character for him. Cas, however, didn't even look at Bill, choosing instead to keep his eyes fixed on the landscape passing them by.

 

“It's... peculiar that you should ask about my name,” he said slowly, and then offered nothing more. Bill wondered if all angels were that weird, but obligingly threw him a bone.

 

“Oh? How come?”

 

Cas did finally look at him, then, and even sent him a small crooked smile. “Because you gave it to me.”

 

Bill felt a swoop of fondness for this awkward creature who was possibly his brother, at least until he remembered that nothing was guaranteed yet, and his insides sank again. “You mean _Gabriel_ gave it to you.”

  
“If you prefer to see it that way.”

 

“I don't think I can do better, right now, man.”

 

Cas didn't even look upset. He merely nodded calmly at Bill, and then popped out of existence again, like he'd never even been there.

 

“I know you said I'd get used to this, Sammy-boy, but I gotta be honest, I don't think I will. It's just _so_ freakin' weird,” Bill grumbled, and Sam snorted from the front seat.

 

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

 

Bill wasn't so sure it was that easy, but he tried his best to not piss off his new “friends”, at least not until he could know for sure who he was. Because, despite everything, he still wasn't at all convinced he really was the actual archangel Gabriel. It was just too surreal for his poor brain to handle, but he was desperate enough to go with it, as long as there was even the tiniest chance of getting his memories back.

 

Without his memories, he felt like the person he used to be might as well be dead. And that thought alone made him so sad he had to blurt out some stupid joke to yank himself away from a dark hole of gloom. It didn't help for long, though, considering where they were going.

 

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

“It's a hotel,” Dean said, deliberately ignoring that Bill was really asking.

 

“Where I _died_.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Three months ago.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Where my rotting _corpse_ might still by lying around!”

 

“Yeeeeep!”

 

“Dean,” Sam said in the tone of voice that said that if he didn't get to stretch his absurdly long legs soon, then someone was getting _hurt_. “Come on, don't be a dick.” He turned to glance at Bill. “Considering we're looking right at you, I kinda doubt your body will still be there.”

 

“But it's not impossible.”

 

Sam pinched his lips and failed to look reassuring. “Well, no. It's probably not.”

 

Bill slumped back into the seat with a groan. “Great. More nightmares.”

 

They pulled over at the next gas station, even though they still had a decent enough reserve. As intense as Dean was about the sanctity of his car, he'd apparently not been above a few minor engine modifications, and gotten down to a surprisingly good mileage for an old 60's bucket. Only problem was that it had increased the noise level substantially, especially in the back. And while Dean might refer to it as “purring” with a disturbing glint in his eye, Bill felt damn near tumble dried after a few hours in the back seat.

 

He dragged himself out of the car, only remembering too late that he had a bad ankle as well as a multitude of road-rattled bones, and almost fell flat on his face. But a strong hand caught his arm and hoisted him upright again until he could lean back against the car.

 

“Hey, take it easy,” Sam said softly. “No point in getting your grace back if you kill yourself before we find it.” He reached into the back seat and got out Bill's crutches for him before heading into the small store.

 

Bill stared after him, wondering yet again how it was possible that Sam even had the inclination to be kind to him if he really had been Gabriel the gigantic asshole.

 

“Don't get any funny ideas,” Dean snarled from the pumps.

 

“Like what?” Bill asked, stumped.

 

Clanging around with the nozzle, Dean sent Bill what could really only be described as a death glare. “Look, I don't care if you're in there somewhere, or you're really some kind of Eternal Sunshine shit, but if you even _think_ about fucking around with Sam again, I will find a way to kill you, and make it fucking _stick_. Trust me, not even your asshole dad will be able to put you together again once I'm done with you.”

 

Bill felt his jaw slowly drop the longer Dean spoke, and by the end he was pretty sure he was attracting flies.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” he breathed, picking up his jaw. “What the fuck did I even do?! Sam told me a little bit, but _woah_.” There was no doubt in Bill's mind that Dean meant every word. It was sincerely freaking him out, and for a brief moment there was something sick and darker-than-black in his eyes. Bill flinched back, horror surging through him, and his crutches clattered to the ground next to him.

 

“What the _fuck_?!”

 

“Dean.” Cas was suddenly there between them, blocking Bill and staring Dean down.

 

There was a silent and heavy stand down, and it was so still around them that the only thing Bill could hear was the pounding of his own rabbitting heart.

 

After what felt like an eternity Dean finally huffed and unhooked the gas nozzle, strolling away like nothing happened, Castiel's gaze following him all the way inside to join Sam. Only then did Cas seem to release his tight shoulders, and he sighed.

 

“Allow me to apologize on Dean's behalf. He's... been through a lot.”

 

“Yeah, I'm starting to get that,” Bill said weakly, running a shaky hand through his hair. He'd only been a deputy for about six months, and Jericho wasn't exactly a crime hot spot, but there had been a few hairy situations, including the very recent werewolf experience. But he could honestly say that nothing in his short memory had ever scared him more. Even the disturbing nightmare of being stabbed by beautiful, but oh so very familiar, light hadn't been anywhere near this pants-shittingly scary.

 

Sam came back outside, looking annoyed, but handed Bill a Snickers bar anyway before turning to Cas with an eyebrow raised in question.

 

Cas just shrugged and poofed out of existence again, leaving Sam to start folding himself back into the car.

 

Outside, Bill was left clutching a candy bar and wondering what the hell was going on.

 

*** * ***

 

Bill couldn't actually remember ever having stayed in a motel, but it felt somehow all too familiar to check in with two underwear models-slash-monster hunters, eat junk food, and argue over hot water and TV stations.

 

He hadn't even given the slightest thought to the sleeping arrangements, and only realized when Dean made himself comfortable on one bed that there were only two. They were queens, but still. He wasn't sure how to ask, but it turned out to be a non-issue, because Sam just asked Dean to move his fat ass over, and settled down next to him like they'd done it their whole lives. Which they may well have. Bill didn't know.

 

He ended up sitting on the bed silently freaking out over all the things he obviously used to know but now couldn't remember. At least until Sam started quietly snoring, and Dean glared until Bill scurried under the covers and turned his back, willing to do anything to avoid another brush with sheer terror.

 

No one turned out the lights, no one put on nightclothes, and the TV remained on. Bill wondered what that said about them that this was apparently habit. But, then again, if they were really trying to save the world or whatever shit it was they were doing, Bill supposed constant vigilance was a thing.

 

Although, perhaps not entirely. Bill flinched when Dean suddenly spoke.

 

“Jeez, Cas, we've been over this. Quit it with the lurking. At least sit down.”

 

Bill peeked over the edge of the covers and spotted Cas standing silently in one of the darker corners.

 

“You told me I would be allowed to watch over you,” he said after a moment of frowning, and there was a definite note of petulance in his tone.

 

“And I said you could only do it if you stopped being fucking creepy about it. So sit the fuck down or something.”

 

Cas looked around awkwardly and moved towards the tiny table with a couple of chairs, apparently prepared to set up watch there all night. Bill watched him as he sat down, folded his hands in his lap, and made an effort to stare into empty space, though it was obvious from the darting of his eyes that he was mostly concerned with Dean.

 

Considering what Bill had seen earlier that day he couldn't blame Cas for his concern. Dean obviously had major issues, and Bill, for one, felt safer with Cas there. Which was probably what prompted him to sit up slightly and get Cas' attention.

 

“Uhm. If you want, you can bunk with me. Since we're brothers or whatever, I can't imagine we haven't been close at one point or another.”

 

For lack of a better term he would call the look on Castiel's face astonishment. Dammit. Maybe he guessed wrong.

 

“Ah. Well, never mind. It was just a thought.”

 

“No. No, Gabriel, I would very much like to... share.”

 

His words were extremely cautious, as if he was worried he'd spook Bill if he said something wrong, but Bill simply huffed and held open the covers.

 

“Alright then, bro. Hop in. If snuggling or boners happen, it doesn't leave this bed.”

 

Dean made an ugly snorting sound from the other bed, and mumbled something that sounded distinctly like _no homo_ , but Bill was too busy trying not to go out of his own skin. As casual as he played it, it was still his first real moment of intimacy with actual family in over two years, and as he settled down next to Cas, a strange sense of peace trickled through him. He sent Cas a grin, bumped their shoulders, and forced himself to close his eyes and try to get some sleep.

 

It was a long time before he realized that Cas had called him Gabriel and it hadn't even felt weird.

 


	8. In which life is a highway, and death is a goddess.

Bill hadn't spent more than a few days on the road with Sam and Dean, occasionally including Cas, but already a few things were glaringly obvious. Dean _loved_ driving. Even though his entire life was apparently one long road trip, the novelty never seemed to wear off for him. Bill suspected it had something to do with the borderline unhealthy obsession Dean had with his car. It was a little bit unsettling at times.

 

Sam, however... did _not_ like road trips. At all. He was obviously used to them, but it never failed that he started to get pissy every five hours or so if Dean didn't let him out to stretch his legs for more time than it took to fill up the tank. Bill couldn't blame him. Considering he was still nursing his ankle and spending entire days cooped up in the cramped back seat of an old ass-rattling car with more guns in the trunk than Bill had ever seen in his life, a little air now and then wasn't a luxury as much as a vital necessity.

 

They were still roughly a day and a half from their destination, and while Bill's ankle felt better it was still not quite ready to carry his weight. Continuing his streak of being impossibly nice, Sam not only brought Bill snacks, somehow knowing all of his favorite things, but also ignored Dean's death glares like a champ, and made it a point to do a slow circuit of the area with Bill at every stop.

 

“Is it always like this?” he asked Sam on one of their small walks along a small, dried up creek.

 

“Hm?”

 

“The whole... 80's extravaganza road trip shtick Dean's got going on. Please tell me it's just because of this apocalypse I keep hearing about, and not his entire character.”

 

Sam snorted. “Sorry.”

 

“ _Christ_. And you've been with him all along?”

 

“Not... all the time, no. But too long, definitely.” There was history there. Bill added it to his list of things to ask at an opportune moment when he wasn't busy staring incredulously.

 

“Jeez. How are you still _sane_?”

 

The long exhale Sam blew out through pursed lips spoke volumes.

 

“Okay, never mind. Not sure my brain can handle it, anyway,” Bill said weakly, and Sam didn't even laugh at the obvious opening for a joke. He just nodded, and Bill decided he was much happier not knowing how the hell Sam and Dean hadn't gone around the bend yet. He limped along slowly, still careful with his ankle. It wasn't swollen anymore, but it lanced pain through his whole body if he put too much weight on it, so he tried to use the crutches. But, sometimes, getting out of the thick, stale air in the car was urgent enough that he just hobbled for the hills, crutches be damned.

 

“Here, lemme help,” Sam said, and held out his arm. Bill spent a brief moment just staring at the arm offered to him. But he could in fact use the support, so he took it, and sighed with relief when he could lean on something for a little bit.

 

They ambled along for another few minutes before Bill couldn't keep in the questions any longer.

  
“Why are you being so nice? And don't gimme that whole spiel about the apocalypse again, I mean... you didn't _have_ to be nice to me! You could have just hogtied me and tossed me in the trunk! I'm sure Dean would have been a huge fan of that,” he added in a mutter.

 

Sam seemed to think it over for a while, and they walked a few unsteady steps in silence. “Me and Dean... in case you haven't noticed, we don't always see eye to eye.” He flashed a small, wry smile, and shook his head. “Don't get me wrong, he's the most important person in the world to me. But, in a lot of ways, we couldn't be more different.”

 

“Yeah, that's kinda obvious, frankly. So what you're saying is, Dean is the 'shoot first ask questions later' type of guy, and you're... not?”

 

“It's more than that. Dean's... been through a lot. More than anyone should have to. Mostly to protect me. He was already kind of a dick when he was younger, but these days he has a really hard time trusting anyone. Even me. So I'm mostly just trying to be what he can't be right now.”

 

“And Cas?” Bill asked cautiously, because there was definitely something going on there.

 

Sam huffed out a wry laugh. “Cas is... special.”

 

“Ain't he just,” Bill agreed, casting a glance back at the gas station where Cas was staring into thin air while Dean rubbed at some invisible speck of dirt on his car, no doubt grumbling about the _ladies_ taking a stroll. He really was an offensive asshole ninety percent of the time. But every time he wasn't, it seemed like Cas was always involved.

 

“So. Are they fucking, or what?” Bill blurted, only half-joking.

 

The sound Sam made was downright disturbing, and Bill frowned at him in worry. “Woah, are you okay?”

 

“Fine!” Sam squeaked. “Fine, just... choked on something.”

 

Bill was still concerned, but as they started their slow walk again, making a wide turn to steer back towards the rest stop, he could have sworn he heard Sam smother a laugh.

 

* * *

 

“So. This is where I died.”

 

It was depressing and disturbing, looking around the place. Brown-black spatters on all surfaces, rotting bits of furniture, wind whistling through the empty rooms... and a pair of black wings burnt into the floor. In fact, it looked like more than just one pair, but then again, that would make sense, considering.

 

There was something missing, though.

 

“Didn't you guys say that a lot of people died here? Not that I'm hoping to find body parts or anything, but... shouldn't there still be _some_ remains?”

 

“As far as we know, all the bodies were just left here. But, then again, your body was also supposed to be here, and you look pretty spry for a corpse,” Dean said, and plonked down the bag of stuff they'd brought.

 

“Yeah, okay, good point. So what happens now?”

 

“Now we try to get in touch with Kali.”

 

“I thought you said praying was no good?”

 

“It isn't,” Sam confirmed. “But we're hoping that the fact that she's been here gives us a shot at picking up a trail.” He found a table that was still whole, and put a bowl and candles on the scarred tabletop. Bill looked on, curious.

 

“What's all this stuff for?”

 

Dean shouldered his way over, and started looking through the bag for... a lot of strange things, apparently. “This is for making a call, basically. We're not gonna try and call Kali directly, because I like all my body parts mostly intact. But we're gonna see if we can't summon one of her little friends and make them pass on a message. Mercury should be easy enough to reach.”

 

“No need,” came a smooth voice from behind them.

 

Sam and Dean both spun around to face whoever spoke, weapons out, and Bill's hand darted to where his sidearm usually rested, out of pure habit. His hand dropped slowly when he found nothing, and he had a moment of panic before he remembered why he didn't have it.

 

The woman standing there was absurdly hot, but didn't seem like much of a threat. Slender, tall and, for lack of a better word, _sultry_ , she looked more like something from a porno than a life and death situation. But from the way Sam and Dean kept pointing guns at her, Bill gathered that this wasn't just any random lady.

 

“Cas!” Dean barked, and barely a second later the slight rustle of wings announced his arrival.

 

“Kali,” Cas greeted flatly, and slipped a very shiny blade seemingly out of his sleeve, which was a neat trick Bill would definitely have to ask about later.

 

Kali snorted. “Cute. But I'm not in the mood for this. Put those away, please.” She gestured at their weapons, and Sam lowered his slowly. Dean took a little more convincing, and didn't put his down until Cas gently took hold of the barrel and pushed it aside.

 

“Your confidence in your ridiculous little tools is admirable, but misplaced. You should know by now that I can snuff you out with barely a thought.” She gave a small, icy smile, and Bill shivered. As if she'd sensed the movement, her eyes swept across to land on him. She tilted her head slightly and then sighed.

 

“Well, I'd be a fool if I asked what you're here for. Although, I will admit I'd hoped it would take longer than this.”

 

“What, two years wasn't enough for you?” Sam said acidly, and Bill was extremely grateful that someone was there to say it. Because he was a grown man, but he'd never been afraid for his life as often as he'd been in the past week.

 

“Honestly, no. Had I had the means to do so, I would have sent him back a century. But I was short on time, ironically, and Lucifer was on my heels.”

 

“Welcome to my world, sister,” Dean snarled, but Bill ignored him, finally having gathered enough courage to actually speak.

 

“So... you really did this? You brought me back. Why?”

 

Her attention was on him again, and Bill had to steel himself not to step away from her intense gaze.

 

“Call it a parting gift. A means to pay you back for your sacrifice. It was my hope that you would live out the rest of your mortal life out of harm's way, and after that...” she trailed off with a shrug. “Without your grace, things would have taken their natural course.”

 

“So you stole it?”

 

Kali shrugged again. “Semantics. I removed it, yes. But I didn't use it. I could have. But... we do have history, you and I.”

 

“And my memories?”

 

“An unexpected, but useful, side effect of losing your grace. It's no wonder. Mortal minds are not meant to hold the wisdom of eons.”

 

Dean snorted, and Sam elbowed him. Obviously Dean didn't have the highest opinion of Gabriel's ''wisdom''. But Bill couldn't care about that just then.

 

“I'll buy that. Why the time travel, though?”

 

By now, Kali was looking decidedly bored, and let her eyes drift around the room. “For your safety,” she said breezily. “Lucifer would have found you had I not taken steps. But as powerful as he is, he's still in the middle of a war, and he simply does not have the resources for a search through time as well as space.”

 

There was obviously some truth to the whole thing about mortal minds not coping well with too much info, because Bill was already feeling a headache coming on.

 

“I'm... gonna take your word for it.”

 

Sam came to his rescue, though. “It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, only to find out that it could be anywhere in the solar system.”

 

“Ah. Got it.” He didn't, really, because _time travel_. Yikes.

 

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. “Look, we kinda need our pocket archangel back, so if you could cough up the grace, that'd be awesome, thanks.”

 

The grin spreading on Kali's face was beyond cold, and Bill felt the fear race up his spine again.

 

“I'm afraid I can't help you with that. See, _I_ might not be willing to use it, but many others would. So I had it hidden. Even I don't know exactly where it is, now.”

 

Dean groaned. “Great. Then how do we find it?”

 

“That is most certainly not my problem,” Kali said gleefully, and then turned to Bill again. “I know this means nothing to you at present, but please take note that if and when you get your memories back I never want to see you again. You are a liar and a selfish _ass_. You only ever do anything if it benefits _you_ , and it took me far too long to learn. We're even now. And if you ever find yourself in my presence again, I would advise you to remove yourself from it immediately.”

 

Bill swallowed hard, and gave a quick nod. “Noted.”

 

It felt like goodbye to Bill, and obviously he wasn't the only one.

 

“Hey, wait, _please_ ,” Sam said hurriedly. “Can't you give us a hint? Anything?”

 

“I can't possibly imagine why I should.”

 

Dean looked like he was about to bust a vessel. “Hello?! The freakin' apocalypse?!”

 

She rolled her eyes impressively. “You say that as if we haven't already had this talk. We have no need of humans. We were here before them, and we will remain after they've been scorched off the face of this planet.” Once again she looked ready to leave, and desperation clawed at Bill's gut.

 

“Then how about for old times' sake?” he said daringly, and immediately regretted it when Kali's eyes shot to his. He was half sure she was considering how best to kill him, but to his surprise and disbelief, there was a flicker of... something. In her eyes. Something not entirely hateful.

 

“You know... you always did love humans, Gabriel. Even when you were using them, you always seemed fond of them. But you never understood them. I think you may be learning, but you still have a long way to go.” She moved closer, and smiled in way that made his whole body shiver and shudder in conflicting fits of lust and terror. He forced himself not to flinch as she leaned in and stroked a fingertip down his stubbled cheek. “Probably the biggest challenge for any mortal is to find out who they are. Let me know when you do. And then I'll help you.”

 

“Are you kidding me?!” Dean exploded. “Finding your purpose in life isn't something you do over the fucking weekend! Lady, this is the apocalypse! We don't have time to go on a soul searching expedition for the soulless!”

 

Kali met his eyes calmly, and even the spine-chilling darkness flaring up in the green irises didn't move her in the least.

 

“Then I guess you had better learn how to run before you can walk.”

 

And then she was gone. Bill was really starting to _hate_ people doing that.

 


	9. In which there are demons, werewolves and Lucifer, oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like it's becoming habit for me to post chapters every six months or so. Gosh, I'm so sorry. :(

Dean spent several cathartic minutes wasting ammo on shooting half the hotel to bits out of rage before finally cooling off. Bill couldn't blame him.

 

“Guess it's back to plan A. Plan A _sucks._ ”

 

Bill did a small double take. “Wait... this was plan B?”

 

“Yeah, what the hell did you think we were doing when we found you? Sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, waiting for the world to just end already?” Dean snarled, and kicked a broken chair just because it was right there.

 

“Then what the hell was all that bullshit about needing me?!” Bill felt anger scorch through him, and damn near growled at Dean when all he got in return was a taunting curl of lip.

 

“We _do_ need you-” Sam started, but Bill was _done_ just being along for the ride. “The hell you do! Since when am I _plan B_?! And why are you so sure plan B is even a bust anyway?! What, you think I'm just here to look pretty?!” So angry he was shaking, he clenched his fists to avoid slamming them into Dean's sneering face.

 

“I have spent the last _two years_ making up for the fucking blank space in my head! I'm a freak of nature and a science experiment in one easy-to-use gift wrapped package! I spent months being poked and prodded by doctors and scientists and motherfucking reporters! I had _nothing_! Not even a goddamn name! And I _made it work_! Got a diploma, gun license, training, a job, a shitty apartment, and these days I only hear people talking behind my back maybe once a week! You guys show up, and tell me that you need _my help_ to save the goddamn planet, and I just came _right_ along, and I didn't even fucking _argue_! So don't you _dare_ -”

 

He had to stop and breathe before his urge to punch something resulted in a broken hand to add to the bum ankle.

 

“So don't you fucking dare stand there and assume it's all game over because _Amnesia Guy_ got a little goddamn _homework_!”

 

He turned on his heel, and used his crutches for about two steps before losing his patience, and tossing them aside. He barely even felt the pain anyway; too angry and desperate to be anywhere but in that decrepit hotel.

 

“Gabriel, wait!” Cas cried out, but Bill ignored him. The fact that Cas had so much faith in him to keep calling him by a name that meant nothing to him just made everything worse. But a second later he heard footsteps behind him, and Sam's frantic voice.

 

“Shit, Bill, look out!”

 

Dark smoke billowed suddenly around them, and Bill would have screamed, if not for the fact that the smoke was forcing itself _into his mouth_. But that's as far as it got. It undulated wildly against his tongue, and he was seriously gonna puke as soon as his mouth was free to do it.

 

Eventually the smoke seemed to give up, pulsing with what Bill could only assume was frustration before it billowed out the nearest window, and whizzed away with a warped scream of a sound that was gonna haunt his dreams, he just knew it.

 

Sam raced over to him, and Bill would have been happy for it if he wasn't busy doubling over and retching, the ashy taste of the smoke sticking to the inside of his mouth, oily and _wrong_.

 

“Quit blowing chunks, we gotta go!” Dean snarled, and shoved what felt and smelled like a mechanic's rag into Bill's face before pulling him along. It certainly didn't help the nausea any, but one look at Sam's terrified face was enough to make Bill suck it up, and leg it to the car.

 

They sped away, tires squealing, and Bill clutched the rag like a lifeline.

 

“What the hell just happened?!”

 

“No vacancies, I guess,” Dean muttered, and somehow Bill didn't think he meant the dilapidated hotel.

 

Sam sent Dean a significant look before turning back to address Bill. “They must have been watching the hotel. We did a sweep before we came, and Cas was keeping a lookout, but I guess they've been getting smarter. Fuck.”

 

“They?!”

 

“Demons. Probably blabbing to Lucifer right now. _Fuck_.”

 

 _Fuck_ was right.

 

* * *

 

 

They drove for five hours before daring to even slow down. Bill wondered vaguely if it was pure luck that they didn't run into any highway patrols, or if there was some kind of trick he didn't know about. Whatever the case, he wasn't gonna be the one who asked for a pit stop, even though the taste in his mouth was beyond nasty. The lengthy info-dump he got on what exactly demons were about _really_ didn't make him feel better, either.

 

The only time they did stop they didn't even let Bill out of the car. It might have looked like they cared about his safety, but Bill knew better. Dean had glanced at his pale face and his ankle, which was now throbbing again like he'd fractured it yesterday, and growled out a “make it quick, Sammy,” as they pulled up to a gas station.

 

Bill was fine staying in the car. He felt incredibly disgusting, as well as hyper aware of several physical demands of his body, but from the way Sam's shoulders stayed tense, and Dean's knuckles stayed white on the steering wheel hour after hour, Bill didn't even need to ask. They were still not out of the woods.

 

Sam returned with an armful of various supplies, just as Dean was done filling up the tank, and there was no hesitation before they were back on the road, faces grim.

 

Still feeling shaky with terror and his anger from earlier, Bill was not quite ready to be polite yet, but he did feel grateful when Sam handed him a few water bottles and a stick of gum. Those kept him a little less uncomfortable for the next many hours, and the only break in their tension-riddled road trip was when Bill cautiously brought up the matter of his bladder, and was handed one of the now empty water bottles. Just as well. He'd probably have been too scared to go at all anywhere a demon might be lurking around the corner. Which was _everywhere_.

 

Demons, what the actual _fuck_.

 

Finally, almost a full twelve hours away from the hotel, Castiel popped into the car and informed them that to the best of his knowledge they were clear, and that there was a motel ahead that he'd already checked was secure. No sign of demons at all, in fact, except the one that tried to make Bill its new skin suit. And how _Silence of the Lambs_ was that? And what did it make him that he'd apparently done the same trick to some unsuspecting guy?

 

Yeah, Bill wasn't sleeping that night. Or ever, possibly.

 

And yet, he was currently only human. So after a shaky shower, and about twenty minutes of brushing teeth and gargling, he fell onto one of the beds and promptly passed out.

 

He woke up to Castiel watching him from where he was standing in the corner. “Good morning, brother.”

 

“Mornin'. I thought Dean told you to stop lurking in corners?” Bill pointed out, his voice rusty, and wondering for a moment if he was coming down with something. But then he woke up a little more and remembered. He only barely managed not to puke again.

 

Castiel nodded, but didn't stop staring. “He did. But, evidently, certain situations require a more... vigilant posture.”

 

Bill blinked. “So... what you're saying is that Dean's told you repeatedly to sit the fuck down, but one little demon incident, and he changes his mind?” Not that it felt all that little to Bill, but he assumed it was old hat to people who'd faced the actual devil himself.

 

“No, I simply assumed as much after the third time he asked me whether I was still keeping watch.” He quirked a small smile. “It's very... human of him.”

 

Once again Bill felt there was a story behind those words, and one day he really wanted to hear them all. The Winchesters and their angel tag-along really lead some interesting lives. Also scary as hell, but hey, that made for good storytelling. If they all lived to tell any stories at all, that is.

 

Forcing down his building despair Bill got up, and only then realized that they were alone. “Where's Rocky and Bullwinkle?”

 

The tiny wrinkle of a frown on Castiel's brow was frankly adorable, and Bill wasn't even surprised at the rush of emotion he again felt for his brother. Even letting himself think the word _brother_ made a mix of relief and excitement blossom somewhere in his chest, because he'd gone so long fearing he had nothing. Had n _o one._

 

Even if Gabriel, the person – angel or human – that he'd been before never really came back, he still dared to hope that he'd get to keep Castiel. For an angel who evidently turned his back on Heaven he sure had a lot of faith, and Bill was actually a little awed over being the target of it.

 

“They went out to get food. Together. A wise choice, considering the circumstances.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. So you got stuck with babysitting me.”

 

“I wouldn't put it quite like that,” Castiel said. “I would like to... get to know you.”

 

That feeling in his chest took a sharp turn towards something even more gooey, and he grinned helplessly. “That's... that means a lot to me, Cas. I know I'm not... _him_. Not really.”

 

Castiel gave him an odd look, head slightly tilted, and eyes narrowed. “That probably has less significance than you assume. You never really associated much with anyone expect your fellow archangels. And our father, of course.”

 

Bill frowned, and felt the gooey feeling fade in favor of acidic guilt. “Shit, I'm sorry, Cas. The more I hear about the old me, the more I realize that I was a prick.”

 

“What? No,” Castiel argued, moving carefully to sit on the bed next to Gabriel. “We all had our place in Heaven. Yours was at our father's side. Especially considering... Lucifer and Michael. And mine was with my garrison. That does not in any way lessen the love we all felt for each other, regardless of how much or how little time we spent together.”

 

“Sounds kinda hippie, honestly. But come on, we were brothers, I should have spent _some_ time with you.”

 

Castiel smiled at him crookedly. “I think your perception of the word _brother_ is possibly too narrow at present. Yes, we are brothers, but merely in the sense that we all come from the same source. There were billions of us. Even for one of Heaven's most powerful princes it would be quite a feat to develop closeness with us all,” he pointed out with a sly grin. “Besides, things were different then. We were not encouraged to... engage ourselves. We followed the plan and the word, and that was enough. At least for a time.”

 

“So... what you're saying is that you never really tried to spend much time with me, either? Might be kinda selfish, but that does make me feel better,” Bill admitted, grinning back at Castiel. “But... if it's okay that I ask... what kind of person was I? In Heaven?”

 

Castiel's smile softened, and his eyes got distant. “You were... strong. Joyful. Loving. Sharp. And soft. Wise. Almost as bright as Lucifer. And your true form was larger than both he and Michael. I believe Lucifer used to call you 'little brother' in an attempt to be... amusing. Something that was almost unheard of among us before then. And he paid the price.” The smile died, and Castiel lowered his gaze to the ugly patterns on the linoleum floor. “That, however, is an entirely different story.”

 

Bill nodded, just as something occurred to him. “Isn't it weird, by the way, that I know the Bible's version of events, but can't remember a single thing on my own? I mean, I was apparently there with the baby Jesus and all that, but all I remember is The Good Book.”

 

Shrugging, Castiel seemed unconcerned. “You had quite a large hand in its creation. And you were pleased with your efforts at the time, as was Father.”

 

“Huh. Whaddya know.”

 

“And besides, human minds were not made to interpret Heaven. It's possible your memories of that time are simply impossible to process. Perhaps with the return of your grace-”

 

“Yeah, if I ever show enough personal fucking growth that a goddess of death and destruction will help us find it. Sorry, but I'm a little lost. I'm technically only two years old, I'd hoped that any personality crisis would wait at least until my teens. But no such luck. Maybe it's a good thing I turned out to be Plan B,” he added, dejected.

 

“We'll figure it out,” Castiel said firmly, and Bill's gooey feelings came back with a vengeance, just as the door swung open and breakfast arrived.

 

The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife as they ate, Dean and Sam sitting at the small table, and Bill deliberately taking his breakfast burrito to his bed, eating it in determined silence, glaring when either of them cast him wary glances. Dean's cutting words were still very fresh in Bill's mind, and despite the demon threat, he wasn't even remotely ready to forgive _or_ forget.

 

It didn't exactly look up as the morning went on, and Dean started to air theories of how they could win _without_ Gabriel. Sam tried to argue a few times, but Dean was either deliberately being dim, or he was just an asshole, pure and simple.

 

Part of their efforts to stop the apocalypse apparently included a lot of research, and Sam spent most of the morning on his laptop, while Dean leafed through books and newpapers. Cas had flown off somewhere after breakfast, and the TV could only distract Bill for so long, so eventually he picked up one of the books littering the small table, and started reading. Dean gave him a hard glare, but that was just par for the course currently, and it wasn't until Bill thought to check who the author was of the handwritten volume he'd picked that he realized that he was reading a journal by someone named John Winchester. Their father, probably. And Dean hadn't actually stopped him, so Bill cut him some slack, and turned the pages gently. There were indeed a lot of things going bump in the night. A _lot_. It's was the stuff of nightmares, frankly, and Bill mostly just skimmed. At least until he got to the page about werewolves. Which was... not what he'd expected.

 

“Hey, didn't you guys say that the thing that tried to eat me back in Jericho was a werewolf? Cause this drawing right here looks like a human with Halloween teeth and claws.”

 

“The one you saw was a Scandinavian type,” Sam explained with looking up. “A varulv. They do full shifts, and lose it pretty much permanently instead of only occasionally.”

 

Bill frowned. “If it's Scandinavian, what's it doing here in the states?”

 

“That's what we wondered,” Dean grumbled, tossing his own book aside. “Hell, we've never even seen one in real life. They usually never leave Northern Europe, but we tracked this thing through three states. No idea how it even got here in the first place, but we just kinda assumed it's Lucifer's influence fucking things up. Wouldn't be the first weird-ass thing we've seen since he started his little quest to end the world.”

 

“So he brought it here?”

 

“Nah, it was probably just drawn here, since Lucifer was released here. All kinds of shit has been converging on us since he popped out of his box.”

 

Bill would have asked more, but then Sam suddenly looked up. “Wait. What if he _did_ bring it here?”

 

“Why would he do that?” Bill asked, but he was obviously the only one in the room not following Sam's train of thought.

 

“Shit,” Dean said, which was really a lot less illuminating than it could have been, before rummaging through their books, and picking a slim green one. He flicked through it quickly, finding what he needed, while Sam typed away, and they must have found what they were looking for almost simultaneously.

 

“ _Spawn of Fenrir_ ,” they both said on top of each other, and Sam looked vaguely ill.

 

“The what now?”

 

“Lucifer knows,” Dean snarled. “He knows you're alive, and he's been tracking you. Shit, he's probably watching us right now. Cas!”

 

Cas appeared instantaneously, a worried frown creasing his brow.

 

“We gotta go,” Sam rushed. “Lucifer-”

 

“Had hoped you little ones wouldn't catch on so soon,” said whoever just arrived in the room, turning to Bill with a disturbing smile on his blood-pocked face. “Hello again, little brother.”

 


End file.
